The Reject's Daughters
by Writer In The Night
Summary: Her club was the outcasts of the outcasts; those that didn't fit into any other MCs, simply because they didn't have something swinging between their knees. She rode into Charming in hopes of striking up a deal with the Sons… Rated M for language.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own Sons… If I did, Chibs would have a nice little hottie of his own…**

_Her club was the outcasts of the outcasts; those that didn't fit into any other MCs, simply because they didn't have something swinging between their knees. She rode into Charming in hopes of striking up a deal with the Sons…_

Chapter 1

He knew she was trouble from the moment he saw her. When the nurse laid her in his arms, and she looked up at him with those electric blue eyes, James Smart knew the world would never be the same. She had a handful of distant admirers from the time she was five; distant, because she had a tendency to beat the shit out of them if they got too close. He couldn't count the number of times she was suspended from the start of kindergarten through her 16th birthday, when she dropped out. She took off the next day, on the brand new Harley she'd just gotten from her father, and he didn't see her again for another ten years. But she was busy those ten years… very busy.

* * *

><p>Magdylena Smart rolled back into her hometown of Barstow on the same bike she'd left on. But that was the top of a short list of things her return had in common with her departure. Her black hair had grown out, fanning out from under her helmet to the point that she was nearly sitting on it. A faint white scar colored her face from eyebrow to chin, casting a slightly sinister look across her angular face. And riding behind her, as if they'd always been there, were seven other women, each looking battered in some way or another, each with her own assortment of scars, piercing, and tattoos. The patches on the backs all read the same… 'The Reject's Daughters' splayed across the top, 'California' across the bottom, and a nude, bat-winged woman draped across a bike in-between.<p>

She stopped for a few minutes at her father's house, paid her respects to her recently deceased mother, and got back on her bike for the remaining 150 miles to their destination: Charming.

Eight bikes pulled up to the Teller-Morrow garage, but only one of the riders left the bikes.

"Keep a steady eye, Mama," she said as she went to walk away.

"Aye, Mag," the one called 'Mama' said, the VP patch bright on her right breast. "The same to you."

Mag nodded, heading over to where one man was working on a Honda's breaks.

"Can I help ya, lass?" he asked with a Scottish lilt, looking up when he noticed her.

"I'm looking for Clay Morrow," she said. "I've got some business to discuss with him."

The man nodded, stood up, and lead her further into the garage. "Having problems with that bike of yours?" he asked conversationally.

"This inquiry isn't for Clay the Mechanic," she said, loud enough to catch the attention of the rest of the men in the garage. "This is a proposition for the Sons."

"You got a proposition for me?" asked the gorilla-faced man she recognized as Clay, elbow deep in engine.

"Heard you had a little fire, thought the Daughters could help," she said.

"The daughters?" another asked, this one sporting a Mohawk with tattoos on either side.

"The Reject's Daughters have a proposition to put forth to Samcro," Mag said. "I was hoping we could hold church, have a nice civil sit down."

"That out there's an MC?" a younger, red-headed man asked, pointing out to the lot, where a couple of the girls were chatting, their cuts draped across their bikes.

"The RDO," Mag said proudly, indicating the 'President' patch on her right breast, another underneath reading 'Tarnished Trio.' The Scotsman who brought her in laughed.

"Shouldn't you leave the MC business to your men?" he asked. Mag raised an eyebrow at him.

"Men aren't allowed in my club," she said. "We're the Reject's Daughters for a reason."

"And why should we take you seriously?" Clay asked. "Not a one of you looks like you'd last ten minutes in a fight."

"You wanna put that to the test?" Mag asked, her electric blue eyes flashing dangerously. Nobody made a sound. "Fine. I'll take on your choice of fighter, one-on-one unarmed combat. Your fighter wins, we roll out of town. But if I win, we hold church then and there, and you hear us out. Deal?" She extended her right hand to Clay.

"Deal," he said, grasping it.

"So, which one of your grease monkeys is it gonna be?" she asked, looking around the shop. Clay did the same, waiting to see who would volunteer. Prospect began to raise his hand, but Clay shook his head; he'd seen the boy fight, and wanted to give her a decent shot.

"I'll do it," said the Scotsman. "I haven't had a decent fight in weeks."

"When and where?" Mag asked.

"How's here and now sound to ya, Lass?" he said.

"Let me grab my girls," she said, turning to head back to the bikes. "They'll be pissed if I let them miss out on this." She added an extra swish in her hips as she walked away, and Chibs whistled softly.

"It'll be a shame to mar such a pretty thing," he said.

* * *

><p>"Let's go," Mag said once she reached her club.<p>

"Time to prove we can scrap with them?" asked Layla, a dark-skinned wisp of a girl.

"Time to prove that _I _can scrap," Mag said, pulling off her cut to reveal the roses tattooed up her right arm and the flames up her left. Bridget, the tiny, blonde Sergeant-at-Arms, worked Mag's hair into a single braid as the club made their way back to where the Sons stood, surrounding a simple boxing ring. A blond Son swore when he noticed the half a foot and (roughly) 80 pound difference between the two, and a few of the Sons began placing bets. Not on who would win, but on how long she would last.

"You sure you wanna go through with this, lass?" Chibs asked, looking her over. "Wouldn't want to hurt that pretty little face of yours."

"We'll see who comes out on top, old man," she said, falling into a simple fighting stance. Chibs sighed, but did the same. Clay shut everyone up, and the fight began.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: It's not as long as I wanted it, but I found a pretty good spot to cut it off, so I did. I thought about making it much more cliff-y, but decided against it... this time... :P_

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own Sons of Anarchy… if I did, Chibs would have a nice little hottie of his own. Well, maybe not a **_**nice**_** hottie, but at least a bad ass.**

_"We'll see who comes out on top, old man," she said, falling into a simple fighting stance. Chibs sighed, but did the same. Clay shut everyone up, and the fight began._

Chapter 2

Chibs moved first, a simple lunge in hopes of ending things quickly, but Mag easily side-stepped out of the way, bringing her open palm down on his outstretched arm. He stumbled, but quickly regained his balance. The pair circled each other, searching for any kind of weakness, and both Sons and Daughters jeered. Mag lashed forward, tapping his shin with her right heel, but was gone again before he knew what was happening. He shook his head and continued circling, lashing out with a punch, which she swiped away with her wrist. She turned on the spot, facing away from him, and whipped her leg back, slamming into his gut. With a grunt, he grabbed her foot, flipping upwards. She twisted mid air, landing on her backside and scrambling to her feet before he could take advantage of her prone body. He punched at her again, and she trapped his wrist in her left hand, throwing a punch of her own that bloodied his cheek and split two of her knuckles. She released his hand and flung another kick in his direction. He grabbed her ankle before she could make contact and flipped her again, this time landing her on her stomach. This time he took advantage of the second it took her to regain her feet, and grabbed her around the middle, locking both of her arms at her side.

"What now, lass?" he asked, his breath on her neck. Mag smiled.

"Simple," she said. She leaned forward and whipped a leg back, slamming her foot into his lower back. He released her on instinct and she spun around, unleashing an unyielding flurry of fists until he was flat on his back and she was straddling him, holding his wrists to the mat. "You seen enough yet, cowboy?" she asked.

"I yield," he gasped, wincing when she stood and offered him a hand. "How in the hell did you learn to move like that?"

"Twelve years of dance lessons really does a number on your flexibility," Mag said, popping over the ropes and landing in a crouch next to Clay. "So, church?"

Clay nodded, giving her a rough pat on the back. "Church."

* * *

><p>They surrounded the table, the Sons sitting and the Daughters standing behind them. Everyone had been introduced, and they were ready for business.<p>

"Alright boys and girls," Clay began. "I'd say we all know why we're here, but we don't, so I'm gonna give the floor over to Mag."

"Thanks," Mag said, moving to stand behind Clay. "We heard about your fire, and came to offer some help. We've got a warehouse about an hour's drive away."

"And what's in it for you?" Clay asked.

"As you might guess, we don't get a lot of respect in the MC world," Mag said. "But, if we had Samcro at our sides…"

"They might think twice about you," Clay said, nodding in understanding.

"Exactly," Mag said. "People underestimating us has come in handy maybe a handful of times, but mostly it just gets in the way, like today, when you wouldn't listen 'til I beat the shit outta your buddy."

"I'm right here," Chibs said, a bag of ice against the side of his face. Mag looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

"And?" she said before turning back to Clay. "We'll leave you guys to hold your vote." She headed for the door, the rest of the Reject's Daughters behind her.

"Alright," Clay said once the door was shut. "What are we thinking?"

"I don't get it," Jax said. "How'd they know about the fire? It isn't exactly common knowledge."

"It wasn't exactly hush hush, either," Chibs said.

"What do we think about their offer?" Clay asked.

"Does anybody else think it sounds a little… convenient?" Tig asked. "I mean, none of us have ever heard of them, but they come rolling into town with exactly what we need, with no real price? Is that setting off alarms for anyone else?"

"That Mag chick looked pretty happy when you brought up fighting skills," Juice said. "Like that's what she was expecting."

"To cut them a little slack, they're probably used to that kind of thing," Chibs said. "I doubt anyone takes them seriously until they prove themselves."

"Enough bickering," Clay said. "Let's just vote."

* * *

><p>Mag was sitting next to Mama, running a file over her nails. Layla was touching up the black on Bridget's nails, and the others were just standing around, all of them waiting for the results of Samcro's vote. The door opened, and Tig motioned them in from where he stood at the door. Layla capped the nail polish, and Mag dropped the file into a pocket.<p>

"We got an accord?" Mag asked, walking into the room. Clay nodded, and a couple of the girls squealed. Clay raised an eyebrow at Mag, and she shot a dirty look at the pair, causing them to stop.


End file.
